


Write a Loving Letter, Boy

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia bets Bellamy he can't find a plus one for her wedding. Clarke mostly just laughs at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write a Loving Letter, Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I was like, I just finished a long thing and don't know exactly what I want to write next, maybe I will take a break. And then like two hours later I was like, or I can write this! You know how these things go. Title from Over the Garden Wall.

Bellamy hates wedding planning.

He's happy for Octavia, obviously--Lincoln is a great guy, he makes Octavia happy, and they're going to have a great life together. They're also going to have a beautiful, special wedding, and he'll probably cry at it. He's not ashamed. But he has absolutely no interest in planning it.

So he's playing Monster Hunter 4 on his 3DS and letting Octavia, Clarke, and Lincoln hammer out the details without him. Clarke kicks him when his opinion is necessary, which is a good system for both of them. He doesn't have to pay attention, she gets to kick him. Everyone wins.

"Bell can do it, he's not bringing a date," he hears Octavia saying, and that gets his attention.

"What? Yes I am."

Octavia rolls her eyes. "You are not."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Lincoln and Clarke are looking at him now too, like all of them think he's nuts. "You've never had a girlfriend," says Clarke, slowly. "What, were you planning to bring one of your random one-night stands?"

"I've had girlfriends."

"Name one," says Octavia.

He frowns. "There's, uh. There was Roma."

"In high school?" asks Clarke. "She did not count as girlfriend, you just slept with her a lot. Also, that was like--thirteen years ago?"

"Okay, fine, um." He rubs his hand over his mouth. "Well, how are we defining _girlfriend_ here?"

"Oh my god," says Clarke, clearly despairing.

"Someone you're serious enough about to bring to our wedding," says Lincoln.

He thinks about it for a while. "Huh," he finally says.

"So, yeah, Bell's not going to have a date!" Octavia says brightly.

"Hey, wait, I didn't agree to _that_ ," says Bellamy. "I could still have a date."

"You think you're going to be in the first serious relationship of your entire life in the next six months?"

"Why not?"

"Why would you?" asks Clarke.

"So I'll have a date!"

Octavia narrows her eyes at him. "Do you just want to get out of doing this?"

"No, of course not. I don't even know what you want me to do. I just think it's unfair that you assume I won't have a date. Are you assuming Clarke won't have a date?"

"I've had way more girlfriends than you have," Clarke says, which is true.

"Yeah, but you're single right now too."

"Fine, Bell," says Octavia. "Here's the deal. We're sending out invitations in, what, four months?" she asks Clarke. Clarke is the one who's good with timelines.

"Yeah."

"If you find a girl you like enough to put down as your plus one by then, you are excused from any all wedding responsibilities other than walking me down the aisle."

"And if I don't?"

"I don't know, what will you give me?"

"Are you two seriously making a bet about this?" asks Lincoln. Bellamy's not sure if he's horrified or just kind of confused.

"What do you want?" he asks Octavia.

"You pay for all the flowers," she decides. She grins. "That should be plenty of time for me to pick nicer ones if you lose."

"Can't he just bring someone to win the bet?" Lincoln asks. Horrified and confused, definitely.

"Have you met Bellamy?" Clarke asks, rolling her eyes. "There's no way he could fake a girlfriend. He's terrible at pretending to like people." She flashes him a grin. "Hell, he's bad at _actually_ liking people."

"You support means the world to me," he says, dry, and she ruffles his hair.

"What are best friends for?" She turns back to Lincoln. "Anyway, if Bellamy brings someone, it'll be the real deal. But I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

"Says you," Bellamy mutters, and crosses his arms. How hard can it be to get a girlfriend?

*

"So, how do I get a girlfriend?" he asks Clarke a week later.

"You should try Craigslist," she says, straight-faced. "Nothing about this situation would make you sound like a serial killer."

"Seriously."

"Seriously, how do you find girls to sleep with you normally?"

"I go to bars."

"So, you do that, and then you don't sleep with them."

"I'm pretty sure people sleep with their girlfriends."

"Someday I'm going to murder you, and the jury's just going to be like, you showed a lot of restraint waiting this long."

"Help me, please?" he says, dropping his head into her lap and looking up at her with beseeching eyes. Clarke's been his best friend for almost as long as he can remember, since he tried to steal her cookie in fourth grade and she nearly broke his nose getting it back. She was, and remains, about the coolest person he has ever met.

Clarke scratches his scalp with a sigh. "Do you actually want a girlfriend, or do you just want to prove Octavia wrong? Because there's nothing wrong with not having relationships, Bell, seriously. You don't have to do this."

He sighs and closes his eyes. "Well, Octavia _loves_ flowers." Clarke knocks on his forehead gently, like she's verifying there's something in there, and he swats at her. "I dunno. A girlfriend would probably be cool? If I could find a good one. I like couples stuff. Like brunch, brunch is awesome."

"You just like brunch because you can drink at 11 on a Sunday and no one judges you."

"Also croissants are awesome."

"There's more to having a girlfriend than brunch." She pauses and then says, "You do kind of love cuddling."

"I do not."

"You know your head is in my lap right now, right?"

He thinks about objecting, but she might try to make him move, and that would suck. "Okay, fine, point. See? I'd be a good boyfriend. I'm affectionate and shit."

"Ringing endorsement." She sighs. "You really want to do this?"

"I really do."

"Fine. I'll be your wingman. But you owe me, Blake, seriously."

"Put it on my tab."

*

Monday after work, he goes over to meet her at her store. She runs one of those paint-your-own pottery places, and sells a few of her own finished pieces in the corner too. Monday is her production day, so she's making a bunch of mugs and vases and shit for her staff to deal with tomorrow. Bellamy finds the mug he's been painting on and off for the last three months and settles down at one of the tables while she works. It's mostly green, with brown and black splotches, like camouflage. Not really on purpose, his first attempt was just so shitty it had to be hidden.

"So, you wanted to have a pre-bar pow-wow?" he prompts.

Clarke looks up; she's got clay on her face and her hair is coming out of her braid in chaotic wisps. He always comes on Mondays, because frazzled, ultra-focused Clarke is his favorite, and she forgets to eat a lot. He brought her a sandwich she hasn't noticed yet. Come to think of it, she might not have noticed _him_. It's hilarious. "Oh. Hi. Yeah." She goes to push her hair back, but remembers her hands are dirty at the last minute and scowls at them. "What time is it?"

"Six."

"Right. I guess I should start cleaning up." She finishes up the mug and stows it with the others. "So, what's your plan?"

"I think I'm going to see if I can put some flowers on it," says Bellamy, looking down at his mug. "If I do enough coats it should work out, right?"

She bumps her hip against him as she passes. "I meant when we go out tonight. But yes, that should work."

"Oh. I dunno. The same thing I always do? But after, I ask her out."

"Yeah, I think--no."

"No?"

She sits down across from him. "Think of it as--truth in advertising. You usually go in to get laid, and girls know it. Which is great, everyone gets what they want. But if you try to turn that into a relationship, you risk just making everyone uncomfortable. Try going for the girls who are actually looking to make a connection. Grab dinner first." He opens his mouth, and she holds her hand up. "Don't worry, I'm not saying you _can't_ get laid. Just--adjust your expectations. You're looking for someone you can have a conversation with, so start from there, not from, _man, check out her legs, Clarke_."

"What, she can't have great legs and a good personality?"

Clarke snorts. "Set up a date _before_ sleeping with them. That's all I ask." She grins. "But you can base your decision to set up a date on how great her legs are. That's fine."

"Oh good," he says. "I thought dating was going to be absolutely _no_ fun." 

"Tons of people date every day, Bellamy. You'll be fine. Now get your paints put away, I need to get cleaned up."

"Eat your sandwich!" he yells after her, and smiles when she gives him the finger, but takes the sandwich to the back with her.

He's feeling less good two hours later, because, as it turns out, he never learned how to _talk to girls_.

"It's not _hard_ ," says Clarke, sounding baffled. "You do it all the time."

"I flirt, I don't chat. You know I suck at small talk. Remember the museum gala last year?"

She _cackles_ , because she's a terrible person. "Oh my god, that was the best night of my life." She'd been his plus-one for a fancy work party, and probably the only reason he survived it. He's repressed most of it, but he definitely offended at least two board members, drank too much to try to loosen up, and accidentally propositioned his boss's husband.

"As always, your support is appreciated," he says, scowling.

"Okay, okay," says Clarke. "That's actually a good thing to think about! Just talk about work."

"Work?"

"Yeah. Once you actually started talking about museum programs at that stupid gala, you actually relaxed and became a functional person. Just tell some cute stories about kids accidentally kicking you in the balls until you're comfortable. You have great stories."

"That works?"

"Many normal people chat about work, yeah. Or Octavia. Work and family, safe topics of conversation even you can't fuck up. Besides, _I got custody of my sister after our mom died and heroically raised her alone while finishing college and securing her future_ is inspirational and kind of hot, so work that angle. Girls are into that."

He gives her a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Yeah. Responsibility and paternal instincts, exactly what you want in a long-term partner."

"Huh." He signals a bartender and gets them two shots of Clarke's favorite disgusting cheap gin. "Definitely can't be any worse than the last two hours." They clink their shot glasses and down them. "Great. Good pep talk. Thanks, boss."

She claps his shoulder. "Go get 'em, tiger."

*

His first date is with a hot brunette named Raven, who's an actual rocket scientist and looks like she could, if not take him in a fight, at least injure him so badly that he'd never fully recover. Which, as Clarke pointed out proudly, is exactly his type.

Dinner is--fine. As Clarke advised, they chat about work, and about Octavia, and after an hour and a glass of wine, he's relaxed enough to pretty much just talk to her like a normal person. He doesn't really know that he wants to date her in the long term--he has no idea what that would even involve--but it's at least not a disaster.

They have sex after, and he asks if he can call. She shrugs and says, "Sure."

After the third date, Clarke tells him, "Definitely not a relationship."

"We've had three dates!"

"You got dinner, date. You went to a bar together, yelled at the basketball game on TV, and hooked up in an alley. Not a date."

"How is that not a date?"

Clarke considers and then says, "Ask her if you're dating."

"Fine." 

"Oh, no, what?" says Raven that night. "Sorry. We're hooking up, right? It's awesome."

Bellamy sighs and thunks his head on the bar. "God, why is this so hard?"

"What?"

"My sister says I've never been in a real relationship. I'm trying to prove her wrong."

Raven sort of stares at him, the same look Clarke gives him that says, _I'm fond of you, but I think you might have been dropped on your head a lot as a child_. "Wow."

"I know."

She pets his shoulder. "Well, it's not me. But if you want a reference to tell future girls you're good at sex, I'm your girl."

*

"How's the girlfriend quest going?" Octavia asks. They're trying cakes, which is his absolute favorite part of wedding planning. Every day should just be cake-tasting day.

"Fine," he says. He had a date with a girl named Maya yesterday, and she probably wouldn't mind if he called her, but he's not really sure he wants to. She was nice, but a little shy and reserved, and he couldn't really see it going anywhere. Clarke assured him that was normal, but he still thinks the entire dating thing is way more trouble than it's worth.

They're at least keeping Raven, which is cool. They ran into her at the bar and she and Clarke both gave him a horrific dating pep talk and then somehow became best friends. She's now hooking up with Clarke's assistant manager Wick, who seems to be trying to turn the hookup into a relationship. Bellamy asked Clarke if he could do that, but she said that technique was way beyond his skill level, and she's probably not wrong.

"It's good," he adds, when Octavia just looks at him, eyebrows raised. "I've gone out with a couple girls. Nothing's stuck yet, but it's been fun."

Clarke chokes on her cake, and Lincoln thumps her on the back. Bellamy kicks her in the ankle, since no one can see.

"Uh huh," says Octavia.

"He's doing very well," Clarke says. "He made a friend and everything. That's the first step."

"I still have like three and a half more months," says Bellamy. "It's fine."

Octavia shakes her head. "Sure, Bell. Whatever you say."

*

He gets to know a lot more girls, which is kind of cool. He doesn't have a big social circle--it's really just Clarke and Octavia, since Miller moved to Texas, and then a bunch of friends-by-association--and while none of the others start hanging around like Raven has, it at least makes him feel like if Clarke and Octavia both suddenly got new jobs across the world and left him, he could reconstruct something resembling a social life.

(Realistically, he'd probably still just follow them, but still.)

His record for actual, Clarke-verified dates is three, with a pretty cool girl named Anya who drinks him under the table and swears like a sailor. They mutually break it off because neither of them are really feeling romance (which is a horrific conversation to have, and Bellamy hates it); Clarke sets her up with her ex-girlfriend Lexa, and everyone involved is happier.

"You should start marketing yourself," Clarke says. "Like, you're not a good boyfriend, but after three dates with you, you'll break it off and the girl will hook up with one of your more competent friends. Wasn't that the plot of a really bad movie?"

"Probably," Bellamy says. He sighs. "Dating sucks."

"You can afford to pay for Octavia's flowers. You could just stop this."

He'd sort of forgotten about the bet. "It's weird, right? That I can't do this?"

Clarke puts her arm around his shoulders. "Don't get mopey on me, Bell. You're awesome. Some people aren't meant for relationships. It's not a big deal."

"What about you?"

She stiffens. "What about me?"

"Are you bringing anyone to Octavia's wedding? New boyfriend? New girlfriend?"

"You'd know if I was," she says. "I haven't met anyone I like in a while." She grins. "And you don't see me whining about it."

He smiles. "I could wingman you."

"No, you definitely couldn't."

He laughs and kisses her temple. "Yeah, okay. I definitely couldn't."

*

Raven is the one who tells him.

He's chatting with a girl named Echo, who seems like a good prospect, when Clarke stumbles over and drapes herself on him, all sloppy, drunken affection. "Bell, I lost a drinking game."

Bellamy puts his arm around her, steadying her, and gives Echo a smile. "Uh, excuse me a sec." He turns his head back to look at Clarke. "Did you drink actual rubbing alcohol?"

"Gin. That guy was like, we should drink every time someone misses the dartboard, and then we weren't drinking enough, so we switched to every time someone hit the dartboard. Which is a lot."

Bellamy frowns and looks around. "Which guy? You didn't leave him alone with your drink, did you?" He strokes her hair back from her forehead. "Did you get water?"

She smiles at him, ridiculous and goofy, and he smiles back helplessly. "I'm not roofied, promise. Just drunk. I probably need, like, food? Do you have chili fries?"

"No, but we can get chili fries. And water. How much gin did you have?"

"Way too much."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

He glances back at Echo, but she's gone somewhere, and he can't really bring himself to care where. He orders the fries and gets two glasses of water and half-carries Clarke back to a booth so he can support her. He's not convinced she could stay upright on a bar stool right now.

He makes her eat the whole plate of fries and drink both waters, and then she falls asleep on him.

Raven slides into the other side of the booth. "Hey, I'm going to do you a favor."

"Yeah?"

"You can't get a girlfriend because you already _have_ a girlfriend," she says. "Any girl who sees you with her for more than thirty seconds knows she doesn't have a fucking shot in hell with you long term."

Bellamy looks down at Clarke, alarmed. "What?"

"You're stupid in love with that girl, Bellamy Blake," says Raven, and claps him on the shoulder before she leaves. 

Clarke makes a soft noise and noses against his chest, and Bellamy thinks, well, _yeah_.

*

He's back at her store on Monday, working on his hideous mug. He's had two days to think about what Raven said, and he still doesn't really know what to do with it. He's always loved Clarke in an easy, uncomplicated way. She's his best friend, his emergency contact, the most important person in his whole world aside from Octavia. He had a crush on her for a while, back in high school, right around when he was figuring out how his dick worked, and Octavia told him he was absolutely not allowed to fuck it up with her, so he never made a move. 

If she'd ever said anything, if she'd ever hinted, he would have gone for it in a second, but she never did.

"I'm not feeling the bar tonight," he tells her. "You want to get dinner instead?"

"Sure." She smiles. "Giving up on dating?"

"Raven said it was hopeless."

"I've been saying that for months, why do you believe it when she says it?"

He shrugs. "It made a lot of sense, the way she put it."

"You're a dork," Clarke says, all fondness, and goes to wash up.

They go to her favorite gross, greasy pizza place and spend the entire meal complaining about how _Star Trek: Into Darkness_ ruined all the goodwill they had for the new reboot. He knew he'd rather spend an evening with Clarke than out on an awkward first date already, but Raven definitely broke him, because now he can't help thinking about taking her home after, pushing her up against his door, kissing down her neck, and--

She kicks him. "What is wrong with you?"

"Huh?"

"You're not listening."

"Sorry, I'm just--thinking about what Raven said."

She makes a face. "Please tell me you're not going to try to date her now. Wick really likes her. He'd mope and I'd have to deal with it. He's the worst when he mopes."

"No."

She cocks her head at him with a smile; there's still a splotch of clay on her neck, and it makes his fingers twitch. "So what did she say."

He wets his lips. "I'm in love with you," he says. When she doesn't say anything, he says, "It seems really obvious, you know, in retrospect, but--I didn't realize. So the dating seemed stupid."

"Bell--"

"No big deal," he says. 

She nods once, jerky, and then says, "I'm gonna--I gotta go, okay?"

"Yeah."

He calls Octavia on his way home. "I'm in love with Clarke and I'm going to lose our bet."

She sighs. "Oh good."

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

*

He's lying on his bed, trying to read, when his door opens. It's either Octavia or Clarke; no one else has a key. He looks resolutely at the book, words blurring together in front of his eyes, and tries not to wonder which one it is. It could go either way.

The bed dips next to him, and Clarke says, "Eleventh grade, Murphy and his dickbag friends were picking on Charlotte, that little eighth grader who had a crush on you? There were four of them and I was going to lose that fight hard, and then you showed up and gave me this fucking cocky smirk, like somehow _two_ of us could kick all their asses, and I was, like, completely in love with you for a year." He risks a glance over at her; she's looking at his ceiling. The smudge of clay is still on her neck. "It got better in college. I still--you know, I don't love anyone like I love you. But you were busy with Octavia, and that was all either of us could think about, and by the time it settled down it was just sort of one more thing, you know? Of course I loved you. No big deal." She lets out a breath. "You better be sure, Bellamy. This can't just be--"

He kisses her and it's everything, his whole world is laser-focused on this moment, just her, just the two of them. His thumb finds the smudge of clay and strokes it, and she sighs against his mouth.

"I'm sure," he says. "I'm a fucking idiot, seriously, I'm so fucking--I love you, please, just--"

She laughs, soft, and angles closer, tangling her hand in his hair, kissing him again. She pulls away just enough to say, "I believe you," and he chases her mouth.

The next time they come up for air, he says, "We get dinner first, right? To show I'm--"

Her hands slide under his shirt, pulling it up and off. "We had dinner. We've had a lot of dinners." She grins. "Besides, I know how bad you are on dates."

"I was getting better," he grumbles.

"You weren't," she says. "You were kind of a disaster."

"Shut up," he says, with no heat, and she does. 

They've got better things to do, anyway.

*

Clarke is already invited to the wedding, so she's not technically his plus one. Bellamy argues that he still _would_ put her down, so it counts; Octavia says it doesn't because he already knew her, so he didn't really _find_ her.

"Not that I want you to find a different girl," she hastens to add. "You have to keep Clarke."

"Yeah, not an issue," says Bellamy, glancing over at the bar. She and Lincoln are doing shots, because neither of them wanted to be involved in this conversation. He doesn't blame them. "I'll pay half the flowers, and do whatever you want me to do for the ceremony, just seat me with Clarke and have me help with whatever she's doing."

"That probably should have just been my plan from the beginning, huh?" asks Octavia.

"Probably," Clarke agrees, sitting down next to Bellamy. He puts his arm around her, and she steals his beer. "But I'm not complaining."

Octavia hides her smile in her beer. "You two are adorable."

"We are," Bellamy agrees.

He pays for all the flowers anyway. He probably still owes her.

**Author's Note:**

> Clarke POV [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4039033/chapters/12106130)!


End file.
